


The Weight of Living

by Crazzey20



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Gen, Nathan Wesninski is mentioned, Nathaniel and Mary on the run, On the Run, Oneshot, Pre-Canon, This is my first work, idk how to tag, please be indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 01:37:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14438697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crazzey20/pseuds/Crazzey20
Summary: At twelve, Nathaniel faces something he’s not quite ready for yet.





	The Weight of Living

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so, it’s short, I know, but im trying. It’s based on a Pinterest prompt? This is my first fanfic ever so be indulgent please! Constructive criticism is always welcome! Also this is written on my phone, for warning. 
> 
> My native tongue is not English so if words aren’t used appropriately or are just plain wrong, don’t be afraid to point it out! Might be slightly ooc idk

“Eat your food. I will not repeat myself.”

Nathaniel, currently named Chris, knew better then to argue with his mother. He gripped the cold metal of the spoon harder and shoved into his mouth until it hit the back of his throat. The pain distracted him from the disgustingly sweet taste of the vanilla ice cream. He gulped it down. Tears welled up in his eyes, not quite enough to blur his vision, as the cold substance burned his throat. Nath- Chris did not like sweets. His mother, Mary, who’s name was Natalie for now, did not care. 

She had bought the cheapest out of the kids menu, which consisted of a grilled cheese, an apple juice and two scoops of ice cream, and slid it in front of him, pinning him down with her eyes. So he ate it. It’s not like he had a choice. If he didn’t, she’d take to food with them and find a dark ally to dump it into his mouth, clasp a hand on his lips and nose until he swallowed. They didn’t have time for his caprices, she’d say. Didn’t have time for his childish tantrums. 

He wasn’t complaining, though. It was the first time in months they ate something that hadn’t been fished out of a trash bin. 

It’s not that they didn’t have money, it was simply easier to blend in with the homeless, who never asked too much, and his mother saved what they had for emergencies. They technically were millionaires. Two years ago, Natalie had hauled him in the back of a car he hadn’t recognized and ran away with five million dollars stolen from his father. The thing is, Chris’s dad, better known as The Butcher of Baltimore, kills people for a living. Chris didn’t know much more. That and the facts that his father loved knives and that he wanted to see them dead, most likely in the worst torturous way possible, to restore his pride (or something like that... his mother had always been vague and unclear) kept them cautious and wary of attention. Paranoid.

The next few months after they had ran had been hell, his father and his people hot on their trail. They had caught up to Chris and his mother a couple of times and Natalie had taken care of them while he frozed up and watched (he’ll remember the beating that followed all his damned life). 

Right now, he could feel her piercing gaze on him, a promise of violence if he did not do as told. He scraped the bowl so that the last scoop sat on the silvery spoon. It never reached his mouth. His mother griped his arm, making the spoon clatter in the empty bowl. She dragged him towards the nearest exit after slapping some cash on the table. Chris followed Natalie’s eyes and came to a stop at the sight of a tall man dressed in an expensive looking black suit. The broad shouldered man rose from his seat. 

The feeling of his mother’s fingernails digging in his skin reeled him in. It was all that kept his legs from running. She dragged him to the back of the building. In the shadow of the diner, stuck in between brick walls, he shot a questioning look at her, but she was glancing behind her shoulder. She let go of his arm, took a step forward and the fight started. 

His body was ready to run, a quiet observer waiting to see how the fight would end. After a while, his mother was falling behind, her movements slower and her punches not landing. He was a bit numb, his head fuzzy and discombobulated. He took a step forward, his foot hitting something. A gun. The one the man had dropped while fighting. He picked it up, aimed like his mother had taught him and shot. It hit the man in the shoulder. Chris shot him again, this time the man dropped dead. 

He was still numb when they reached the next city, and the next, and the one after that. The car stopped and was being shoved into a booth. Huh, he thought, that’s new. Usually, they would be on the road for at least three days. He vaguely heard her order a strawberry smoothie, but that didn’t make sense. She didn’t like strawberries. 

The drink was plopped in front of him. 

“Get yourself together. I won’t do this again. Now drink,” she harshly said while he stared at the drink. 

Getting no response, she added, “ Seven billion people’s in the world and you’re overreacting because you killed one man.”

“But-“

“Seven. Billion. People. Now, quit complaining and drink your smoothie.”

Nathaniel mumbled incoherently. The look his mother gave hi was enough to make his stop and drink.

**Author's Note:**

> Ah thanks for reading this! Props to you who read this trash<3


End file.
